


Anchor

by halebarnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Demon Dean Winchester, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Holding Hands, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halebarnes/pseuds/halebarnes
Summary: Castiel sees Dean's shaking hands while he bears the Mark of Cain.   He tries to help.





	1. Grace

**Author's Note:**

> i rewrote the episode, okay.. i felt this was needed..

There was something different about Dean. Something Castiel sensed the moment he was handed back by Metatron. Later that night, Dean touches Castiel’s arm and he feels it; grabs his wrist and shoves the denim sleeve up to reveal the Mark of Cain. A bout of anger, but more worry than anything, courses through angelic veins. Dean leaves and Castiel tells Sam to look after him -- he keeps his word. 

Castiel leads his army and keeps tabs on Metatron, calling Dean when he gets a lead. They come and Castiel’s eyes immediately flicker to Dean’s forearm, but back up to his face before anyone notices. He gives both Winchesters a hug and they talk about the plan. Every moment Castiel gets to watch Dean’s movements and actions, he takes. _He needs to make sure he’s okay._ Dean has been his charge since he rescued him from Hell and even if the Winchester didn’t like his hovering or concerns, he was still going to give his all in protecting him. 

One event leads to another and Castiel loses his army -- they flee to side with Metatron and Team Free Will is back to practically square one. The angel sits quietly in the backseat, thinking over his actions and what he could have done to keep his people, but every option turned up with the same answer: nothing. It’s several hours before they’re all back at the bunker, Castiel making his way to a chair and having to listen to Sam and Dean bicker once again. Sam is in the right on this one, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. While he doesn’t believe Dean killed Tessa, he cannot help but think that if Dean had kept the first blade at bay, she may still be alive. As much as he cares for Dean and vouches for him -- even turn against his own people for him -- he has to side with Sam on this one. The Mark of Cain and the First Blade were a dangerous combination and he can see the effects it’s having. 

Castiel glances over to the other room when the argument seems to die, watching Sam take his leave in a stomping lead to his room and Dean drop his bag and sit across from him. A fondness settles on the angel’s features; it’s subtle for the moment, but it’s there nevertheless -- even when he questions if Dean believed he had sent the angel bombers, which thankfully was a no. _ You gave all of that up for one man._ It echoes in Castiel’s head and he can’t help but think about it over and over again until his name is called, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Do you really believe just the three of us will be enough?” There’s concern and worry, maybe a bit of doubt in Castiel’s tone, a frown settling. 

“We always have been.” The lightness in Dean’s voice lifts a slight weight off of Castiel’s shoulders, especially when he glances up to see the man’s smile, _turning his frown upside down_ as they say. 

They look at each other for several seconds like this -- a smile on each other’s face and a calmness in the air. It’s almost like it used to be, except now Castiel’s gaze seems to flicker to Dean’s forearm; his hand is still shaking just slightly, but noticeable to the angel. Dean notices and instinct has him reaching with his left hand to cover it, rub it slowly. 

“How -- How are you, Dean? Truthfully.” 

“Fine, Cas. Be a lot better once we get this Metatron mess cleaned up.” He seems distant; the gaze in his eyes and his tone of voice is off. It makes Castiel frown once again. 

It’s a few moments of silence before Castiel places his arms on the table, slowly moving them forward and holding out his hand, blue hues looking into green which were desperately trying to advert. He holds the man’s gaze and his own softens. “May I... see?” 

It’s a risky question, one he more than half expects to be declined and pushed away with some harsh comment followed by the Winchester’s leave. However, he doesn’t get the response. Instead, Dean does something unexpected and begins to move forward, albeit rather hesitantly, but he still moves. Castiel keeps his hands still as Dean slides his right arm onto the table and Dean flinches when he’s touched, a cautious gaze staring at Castiel’s hands. The touch is gentle, almost soothing. It stops the shaking and Dean relaxes visibly, glancing up at Castiel before looking back at their hands. They’re both quiet and Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean’s arm as he moves one hand up the inside of his forearm, fingertips stopping just at the mark. He doesn’t touch it at first, only testing his limits, but when Dean doesn’t budge, he moves forward -- fingertips hovering over the Mark ever so slightly before he touches; Dean’s breath hitches and he has to force himself to keep still. It doesn’t burn, nor does it ache, but the gentleness in it is surprising and he ends up looking at Castiel’s facial expression: concerned, focused, and maybe a little confused -- he’s not sure. 

“How does it feel?” Castiel’s softened voice breaks Dean from his thoughts. 

“Fine.” 

“Dean.” 

“It’s... I dunno, man. What am I supposed to tell you? It’s just freakin’ weird.” 

“Me touching it or in general?” 

The question makes Dean almost choke, but all he can manage is eyes widened slightly and a scoff passing his lips. “Both.” 

Castiel bites the inside of his cheek and moves to pull away, to let go, but Dean’s hand grabs his arm suddenly to keep him in place. 

“It’s helping. The uh... The shaking. It’s gone. Think it might be the grace. You know, angel-y power stuff.” He takes a deep breath and holds it, giving a cautious look before it fades and he relaxes when Castiel settles back down, continues to hold his hand. 

This lasts for about two more minutes before Sam’s voice makes them both jump up and they’re faced with Gadreel. 

Dean attacks. Sam and Castiel do their best to hold him back before he can kill the other angel. Sam gets the blade out of Dean’s hands and Castiel keeps his arms around him securely until he settles, which is almost immediately when the blade is out of his grasp. He slowly loosens his hold, watching Dean’s every movement from then on out, making sure he doesn’t make another move towards Gadreel as they lead him to the dungeon part of the bunker. He listens as Dean argues a valid point -- he is the only one that can control the blade and kill Metatron -- however, they need him to be basically on a leash until they’re ready. 

Gadreel is gone when they get back to the main floor. The search doesn’t take long and Castiel heals the other angel with what little grace he has left then helps him back to the bunker for safety. It is, after all, the safest place to be in this time of war. Yet another war they have to fight -- none of them are sure when it will be their last, but that time will come when it does. For now, they focus on getting information from Gadreel and track down Metatron to get this over with once and for all. 

When it’s time for a break, Castiel decides to check on Dean, going down to the dungeon area and making sure to close the door behind himself as to keep him from trying to escape. Although, if Dean wanted to bad enough, he could no matter what situation he was in; that much Castiel knew for sure. 

“So, you gonna let me out or not – and please don’t tell me you’re letting that dick-bag live and stay here.” 

“Dean, he can give us information on Metatron. We can use him.” 

“And what if he turns on us like everyone else has, huh? Your little gang never held up and left you. What makes you think he won’t do the same?” 

Castiel is quiet for a moment at Dean’s remark, a ping in his chest before he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, almost defensive-like. 

“Because he wants Metatron dead as well. Gadreel, when he was inside Sam -- Sam could feel something was off.” 

“Yeah. He’s a psycho.” 

“No, Dean. He felt -- misunderstood and wants to make things right. He’s turning on Metatron to do so.” 

“Yeah, you keep tellin’ yourself that.” Dean’s demeanor is still slightly hostile, judging by the way he’s pacing and the tension in his shoulders when he turns away; Castiel knows right away that he’s on edge once again. 

The angel stays put, eyes following everywhere Dean decides to move to in this small space. He can’t stop the worry in his gaze and the way his shoulder slouch slightly in a bit of defeat. He thinks about how it’s always been his mission to keep Dean safe, but right now he believes he’s failed. To have Dean go through this – it's more than any man should have to go through, especially alone; but that’s the thing: he isn’t alone. Still, guilt knots Castiel’s stomach and he swallows when Dean turns his back, a vulnerability on his features that he’s used to the Winchester seeing; however, he needs to seem strong for this. For Dean. 

“How is it?” His gaze moves to Dean’s arm then back up, brows furrowing together as he waits for an answer. 

“It’s fine.” _It’s not._ “Just still... a little on edge, I guess.” 

Castiel doesn’t believe his words for a second and decides to step forward, grabbing Dean’s wrist, turning the other to face him as he takes his hand between his own as before. When Dean tries to move away, the angel tightens his grip. 

“Cas, I said I’m fine.” The hunter’s voice is rough, a little harsh, but no malice behind it. 

“Your skin is warm. Feverish. It’s the Mark’s effect.” Castiel seems focused, brows knitted together once again as he examines Dean’s arm. 

Dean doesn’t make a sound for a whole minute then he clears his throat. “It’s stopped. Again. Whatever angel-y mojo you got going for you works.” 

“I used what little I had left to heal Gadreel.” 

“So -- you’re powerless now?” 

“Not exactly. Weakened, yes. Powerless, no. I still have a _touch_ of angel in me.” Amusement graces his features as he looks up, smile so wide it makes his eyes crinkle at the edges and makes Dean’s heart skip a beat; which Castiel notices and lets go of his hand. Perhaps he’s made Dean uncomfortable with his closeness. “Would you like me to bring you something to eat?” 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, Cas. That’d be great, thanks.” 

It’s not soon after that that they find Dean is gone and Castiel is locked away in Heaven with Gadreel, leaving Sam on a search for his brother. 

\------ 

When Castiel escapes and destroys the Angel Tablet, he learns of Dean’s death; albeit Metatron’s words, it the truth. Devastation is clear on Castiel’s features and he takes a deep breath, internalizing his emotions momentarily to get the Scribe to talk; to tell the angel’s his real motive. When that happens, he and Hannah lock him away in Heaven’s prison. He keeps it together long enough there and when he’s back on Earth, he calls Sam. No answer and he tries again. The fourth call is answered, a silence on this other end. 

“Sam --” 

“Cas, Dean’s --” He can hear the broken syllables in the youngest Winchester’s voice, causing himself to take a breath and carry on. “He’s dead. He – Metatron got to him. I was too late. I should’ve -- I should’ve been there and I should’ve -- _been there to save him_.” 

“Sam, this isn’t your fault. Metatron is – locked away. He’s not going anywhere.” 

“_Locked away?_ Cas, you were supposed to – you – unbelievable.” 

“Sam --” _Click._ That’s all Castiel hears and then silence. 

Sam is right. He should’ve killed Metatron, revenged Dean’s death, but that wasn’t his plan. Call him selfish all you will, but he still believes Metatron can be useful somewhere down the line and even if he isn’t, letting him _rot_ in that cell for all eternity with nothing to do other than stare at a concrete wall is better than giving him the death he craves for. 

A few hours and several tears later, he arrives at the bunker, entering slowly and quietly. If Sam decides to take his anger out on him then he won’t stop him, but he makes his way to Dean’s room, only to find the hunter’s body decaying on the clean linen sheets. Concern spreads throughout his angelic veins; concern for Sam and what he’s planning to do. However, he can’t stop himself from walking over. His chest tightens as he looks at the Winchester’s beaten corpse, mouth opening only for his bottom lip to quiver and several more tears threaten to fall, which he cannot keep back. The angel falls to his knees next to the bed and can’t contain the sob that escapes his lips. An angel’s cry, no matter how little or much grace it has, is heartbreaking to all. His brothers and sisters hear the angelic wail of their brother, their former commander; where mortals would only hear the broken sobs of a man. The heavens shake with his grief. 

His mission failed: **Dean Winchester is dead.**


	2. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's a demon.

**Dean’s a demon.**

At least, that’s what Castiel hears from Sam. He’s not sure whether Dean is being possessed or maybe – the thought of the Mark being able to turn Dean into a demon wasn't something Castiel wanted to consider, but he knew it was a great possibility. He knows the stories – some he thought to be just that: a fable. However, recent events have proven many things to be true. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

When he manages to get inside the bunker without notice, he uses it to his advantage. He follows the stench of rot, the stench of twisted human soul – he follows Dean. It doesn’t come without risk. His mere presence is enough to set a demon onto high alert and Dean would be no exception to the rule. He hears the crashing of furniture, a worry for Sam on his mind as he draws near. When he sees the younger man, he whispers his name, motioning him to follow and he leads him into the main room.

“Dean’s not – Cas, we need to do something before he hurts us or himself. When we bring him back, he’ll never forgive himself.”

“I know, Sam, but he knows I’m here. The element of surprise is no longer with us. We’ll have, as you say, _wing it_.” This gets a soft huff of amusement, but also worry come from the Winchester.

The sing song of both their names is rather startling, making them both turn in the direction it carried, seeing Dean’s shadow appearing on the hallway’s wall as he stalks closer.

“I’ll hold him off. Go get what you need.” Sam’s worrying expression is back before Castiel pushes his good shoulder and makes him leave.

Castiel stands tall, angel blade dropping into his grip as he listens to heavy boots fall against the hardwood floors. The first thing he notices is how he doesn’t see _Dean_, not his human form at least. He sees his soul – that dark, twisted thing the Mark has turned it into. Dean’s soul is by no means, pure, but it was never this. Breath catches in the angel’s throat yet he still stands his ground – defensive and ready for a fight. He didn’t want to fight him; he never wanted to fight Dean Winchester, but it seems he has no choice until Sam is ready.

“Hey, Cas. Long time, no see.” The angel takes notice of the hammer in the other’s hand just as Dean notices the blade in his. “Did you come to kill me?” Amusement is clear and there’s a smile on his face.

“No. Dean, I’m not here to kill you. I don’t want to fight you. Please lay down your arms.”

“Well, when you put it that way – no.” His tone takes a darker turn and his eyes flicker to a solid black; it makes Castiel’s breath catch once again.

“Dean --”

It the only word he manages before the other lunges, swinging the hammer towards Castiel’s head. It would do no real damage – not really, but it would hurt and slow him down for sure. It’s a lot of dodging and ducking on both parts before their weapons are knocked aside and they resort to throwing punches instead. Dean’s strength has shot up, being able to make Castiel’s ears ring with a single punch. The angel takes caution when this happens, planning his own attacks carefully and swiping the Winchester’s feet out from under himself then reaching to grab him by the throat, lifting him from the floor. They’re both bloodied and bruised, panting heavily and trying to keep the other restrained. A kick to the gut is unexpected and Castiel’s grip loosens completely, dropping Dean as he staggers back, earning a well-deserved punch to the jaw and dark locks being gripped hard enough to hurt.

“Dean, please.” His begging is pointless, but he must try. While Dean isn’t being controlled, he believes that his voice would get through to him as Dean’s did when Naomi was in the picture.

“Please what?” Dean keeps his grip on Castiel’s hair and lifts his other hand to the angel’s throat, a smirk on his features and eyes keeping their solid color to stare him down. “Come on, Cas. You think you can beat me? Maybe when I was human, but I ain’t that anymore. The Mark, plus demon abilities – I'm practically unstoppable. Especially since I know you don’t have the guts to kill me.” His tone is so sure and Castiel can’t help but think that _he’s right_. “You think you can show up and think I wouldn’t be ready for you?” That’s when the angel blade comes back into play, the point coming up to settle under Castiel’s chin and lifting it ever so slightly.

It makes the angel squirm and take a sharp breath, breathing deeply through his nose. He’s thought of something like this happening; something like Dean taking matters into his own hands and trying to kill him. It always ended with Castiel letting it happen because each time, Castiel thought he did something to deserve it. He knows he’s done many things that deserve such now, but he cannot let Dean win. Not this time.

“You demons – you're all alike.”

“Oh, there is no demon like me.”

“I beg to differ. You’re filth. You don’t care for anything or anyone but yourself. Maybe – just maybe, on some rare occasion, you’ll have the mercy for a few, but it never lasts long, does it?” Castiel is pressing his luck and he knows it, especially seeing the way Dean’s jaw tightens and he grits his teeth, the way the angel blade’s tip presses hard enough to break skin and a trail of blood travel down shining silver.

“You’re in a bad position to be insulting me, you know that?” He moves the blade to Castiel’s cheek, grinning when he makes a mark and the angel growls through the pain it causes.

“Maybe, but you’re going to be a lot more pain than I in a second.”

Dean doesn’t get another word before Sam douses him in holy water, the liquid burning his skin and making him drop the blade and stagger back; Castiel gets to his feet and grabs Dean from behind, caging him tightly in angelic strength and reverting him immobile for the moment. The angel tries not to wince when Dean screams, the animalistic sound of it piercing his ears; Sam’s as well since the taller man almost jumps out of his skin. Another splash of holy water and Castiel touches Dean’s head, making the eldest Winchester go limp in his arms.

“You okay, Cas?” Sam frowns, glancing at the cut still present on his cheek.

“I’m fine.” He picks Dean up and carries him to the bunker’s dungeon, setting him in the chair and tying him back up, a little more secure than the first time.

After the last few shots of human blood, they wait. The worry in the back of Castiel’s mind is ever present. _We could be killing him._ It’s a fear that the angel isn’t afraid to admit to; it’s one he shares with Sam. They both know it, but never speak of it during these moments of silence.

“You should – heal that.” Sam says pointedly, motioning to his cheek as Castiel wipes the blood away with his coat sleeve.

“I need to save my strength. I’ll be fine. We need to worry about Dean.” His tone is serious, form unmoving as he keeps his gaze fixated on the unconscious man in front of them. Sam drops the issue.

It’s almost an hour later before Dean even twitches, let alone lift his head. Sam notices and he stands at alert alongside Castiel. They both watch as Dean’s eyes turn black to green.

“You look worried, fellas.” A soft smile plays on the eldest Winchester’s lips before it vanishes as Sam tosses holy water at him once again. Nothing happens.

A loud, relieved breath passes Sam’s lips and he breaks out into a grin, glancing back at Castiel whose expression hasn’t changed.

When Dean is untied and let loose again, Castiel leaves the room. He lets the brothers have their privacy and chooses to use this time to clean up the main room where their previous adventure practically destroyed it.

Sam frowns when he watches the angel leave, but turns to help Dean to his feet and holds his shoulders to keep him standing until he’s able to on his own.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I mean – as okay as I can be after being pumped full of blood and having been a demon for almost a year. I’m peachy.” The sarcasm never left and neither had the flash of a fake smile. Sam knew.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back. I get to keep my head.” He smiles slightly, trying to lighten the mood with dark humor.

“I dunno, man. You need a haircut; it could’ve done the trick.” This comment comes with a genuine amused grin, one that makes Sam roll his eyes.

Dean pats Sam’s shoulder and walks past, going straight to his room that will soon have company in the matter of minutes. The soft knock makes him turn, tension leaving slightly when he realizes who it is.

“Hello, Dean.” It’s the same tone every time, but Dean never seems to tire of it.

“Hey, man.” There’s a brief show of a smile before a concerned frown takes its place when he looks at the cut still on the angel’s cheek. “I, um – Why haven’t you healed yourself?”

“I’m not at full strength. Our battle tired me more than I thought.” It’s a lie. He can’t tell him about how he’s only running on fumes and borrowed grace. “I’ll live.” Castiel smiles, a slight upturn of the corner of his mouth, one that Dean is used to seeing and it relaxes him just a bit further.

“Right. Yeah. Thanks, Cas. For... everything.”

“Of course.” He nods as if it were something small – as if this was just a regular favor or task he just accomplished; it makes Dean that much fonder. “How are you feeling?”

“Less demon-y. I don’t wanna take off either of your heads, so I count that as a win.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Uh... besides food, I’ll take a month of sleep.” He sighs and moves a few things around on his dresser before crossing the room towards Castiel. The angel resists the urge to lean away, but stays put to watch him cautiously, only to relax when he’s hugged. He hugs him back in return, both of their arms tightening around the other and chins resting comfortably on each other’s shoulder. “Really, Cas. Thank you.” Dean’s voice is softer, almost a whisper as he breathes it out.

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel’s tone is the same as ever; still and rather serious. It would be amusing if this wasn’t such a serious situation, one that Dean takes notice of and releases his hold on the angel’s shoulders to step back, patting the trench coat covered shoulder.

It’s a comfortable silence between them after that. Yet short lived as a few minutes later, Sam sticks his head in to say he’s going for food; Dean tells him to get almost everything off the menu, which earns him a sigh and a nod.

Castiel watches in amazement, eyes following Dean’s form and taking in the no longer tainted soul. As said before, Dean Winchester’s soul is far from pure, but it was never a stain and it never will remain as such. Castiel and Sam proved that today when they saved him. His soul is clear; damaged but clear and a bright light as before. It’s made up of many imperfections as most souls are, but ever since Castiel laid a hand on this particular soul in Hell, he’s been drawn to it. He’s never felt such a bond with any other soul and he never will. Dean Winchester has made his forever mark on this angel, that even when Dean is gone for good, Castiel will never forget him nor will he let others.

He must be staring; judging by the way Dean is looking at him now and ready to wave a hand in front of his face. When the hand lifts, Castiel takes it. It makes the other tense. He holds his wrist rather than his hand and his gaze travel up to the Mark on the Winchester’s arm, which Dean notices and tries to cover it in a bout of embarrassment, but Castiel doesn’t let him do such – taking his hovering hand and drawing it away.

“Cas, that’s --” _Enough?_ Dean wants to add it to his sentence, but bites his tongue and takes a deep breath. Gentle touches come rare to him and the way Castiel touches him now – like he’s fragile and delicate – it's almost uncomfortable, but it’s not in the same way. It’s new. A good kind of new. So, he lets him touch.

He lets him until he looks up and sees the cut still on the angel’s cheek then tugs his arm free. _The very touch of you corrupts._ Hester’s words echo in his head. _All you Winchesters do is break things. The world. People._ Words of an old friend tighten his chest and he notices Castiel's concerned expression.

“That’s not true.” Ah, yes. He forgot about the mind reading. “You fix many things. The things you and Sam have accomplished, I'm sure no other could.”

“Right. Yeah. Good talk.”

“Dean.” Castiel catches his arm before he can turn away, grip light but strong enough to hold him there.

“I need rest, Cas.” It’s all he says and the angel lets him go with a nod before he walks out, leaving the hunter with his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapters are a bit short, but i promise i have more chapters coming !  
i'm still trying to get back into the swing of writing again !


End file.
